Memories
by Blinking Silence
Summary: Shawn is hurt doing a case and can't remember anything. With Lassiter's new found feelings, what will he do to see Shawn safe?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! Here is a story I started instead of working on my other, but hopefully I'll start on that one again soon. This takes place after Truer Lies in season 3.**

**Disclaimer:I do not own Psych.**

**Thank you to my beta Doctor Gleek Potter.**

_***1986***_

_9 year old Shawn ran down the road after Jonny Ruther. Jonny had stolen his bike and he was going to get it back if it was the last thing he did! Sure, Jonny was the largest 9 year old on the planet and could probably crush him, but he wanted his bike back! He was just starting to catch up (Jonny was large in an overweight way and couldn't go very fast) when someone put their arm out and caught him. _

_"Shawn. What do you think you're doing?" Henry Spencer asked his son. Shawn struggled to get out of his father's hold, but the old man wouldn't let go._

_"Dad! Let go, he's getting away!" _

_"I don't think so Shawn. You never go after someone, especially someone bigger, alone. You call in back up, you got that? Even if they aren't bigger, they could have a weapon." Shawn stopped struggling, bowed his head and nodded._

The man woke up with a throbbing head. He didn't open his eyes, for he knew if he did the forming headache would get worse. He knew bright light would agitate him more, but... how did he know that? The man tried to remember how he knew that but his mind was blank. He couldn't remember why he knew it.

He couldn't remember... anything.

* * *

><p>Carlton Lassiter was having a bad day. There had been no high profile cases lately so he was reduced to responding to petty crimes. He was currently in his car waiting for something, <em>anything <em>to come over the radio. He didn't know if he could take another robbery. He needed something exciting to happen! Was it too much to ask for a little murder? Lassiter sighed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He needed something to occupy his mind before his thought wandered to Spen- NO! The detective shook his head.

He couldn't_, wouldn't_ think about the psychic that had been making his life hell for 3 years. But no matter what, Spencer always wiggled his way into Lassiter's head. And Lassiter couldn't take it anymore! It seemed like Spencer liked to make his life miserable. But… the detective had to admit life was more entertaining with the psychic around. And that may have something to do with the detective budding feelings for the younger man. He just recently realized that the urge to strangle him was really an urge to…do something else._ I guess Drimmer was good for something._

Ever since Drimmer had said they would play former lovers in his murder-suicide plot Lassiter had been able to put a name to his emotions.

Love.

So while he could identify his feelings, he didn't have to be happy about them. Why couldn't he like someone he had a slight chance with? Lassiter knew he wasn't the most dashing man, but Spencer deserved someone who was. The psychic was a free spirit, and he would just drag him down. The dark haired man had no illusions about this and had accepted it. So he would continue to be mean old Lassiter around Spencer. He'd continue to treat him like dirt no matter how much he hated it.

He didn't even know if Spencer was gay, so he had no idea how he would react if he found out a man liked him, let alone Lassiter. So it was best just to let things be.

The detective was just about to move on to other depressing thoughts when a voice came over his radio. "I've got the hospital asking for an officer. They've got a man who was assaulted with no identification and no memory."

_Thank God._

Lassiter picked up his radio and told them he was responding. He leaned back in his car and drove to the hospital that had made the call. He parked and made his way into the lobby before he realized he didn't know where to go. _Damn it!_

He went up to a nurse's station and hoped one of them could point him in the right direction. "Excuse me; there was a call for an officer from this hospital. Can you point me in the direction of the caller?" He flipped open his badge and the nurse gave him a room number and directions. He set off toward the direction she pointed and thought of the person who was here with no memory. What had caused them to lose it in the first place? They had said it was assault, so was it possibly attempted murder?

His mind was preoccupied so he didn't notice till he was in front of the right door. He knocked on the door to alert anyone inside that he was coming in before opening it. Who he saw on the other side was the person he least expected to see…


	2. Chapter 2

**What's this? A new chapter? No way!**

** Edited version up soon.**

_What the _hell_ is he doing here? _Lassiter thought as he saw Spencer sitting on a chair in the room. But there was something… off. Spencer was sitting in a chair just staring at the wall opposite him. Then Lassiter noticed a man in a white lab coat. And there were bandages around Spencer's head. _Is Spencer playing a joke? If he is, this isn't funny!_

Lassiter took a breath and decided to ignore the odd behavior from Spencer. But he could see a dullness in the psychic's eyes that was never there before. And that blank look on his face tugged at the detective's heart. _Die already. _

Sometimes Lassiter just wished his heart would jump out of his chest so he didn't have to deal with the pain anymore. He'd first started this when Victoria and he had split, but then the hurt had died down till Spencer crashed into his life. Now he had to deal with it almost every day and it was killing him. But what could he do, short of asking for a transfer? And even then he would need to give a reason and anyways he didn't want to leave Santa Barbra.

No matter how much it hurt, Lassiter _did_ treasure every moment he got to spend with Spencer. On the outside, he would sneer whenever the psychic showed up, but on the inside he was always happy. This still confused him sometimes, how he could want to be around someone all the time but also hate to be in their presence. It was like he was split in two, half wanting to never leave Spencer's side and the other never wanting to be there in the first place.

It had only been a few seconds since he opened the door when he realized he had to say something.

"Spencer! What do you think you're doing? Do I have to remind you that you can't mess with police resources?" Spencer looked from the wall to the detective surprised. The brunette just blinked at him and it was slightly unnerving to see the psychic so… calm.

"Officer, do you know this man?" The doctor asked.

"Of course I know him. I just don't know why he's playing this game. Spencer if you want to play your little game you should have had them call O'Hara or Guster." Lassiter said, not moving from the doorway.

"Officer-"

"Detective."

"Detective then, this man is not playing anything. I checked him out myself and he has amnesia. I called because it was obvious he had been the victim of assault. It's just luck that you happen to know him. Now if you could give me his name so I could get his chart and find his emergency contact." The doctor said, obviously not liking someone being hostile to one of his patients.

The detective glared at the amnesiac, he knew how to deal with Spencer, how was he supposed to do with a Spencer who didn't even remember him?

"His name is Shawn Spencer. His contact is probably Burton Guster, or maybe his father. I'll call them both here." The doctor nodded and left the room to get Spencer's charts, leaving Lassiter alone with his patient.

"So…" Spencer's voice sounded weak and rough. It hurt the detective's cold heart but he couldn't let that show. "You don't really like me, huh?"

"I tolerate your antics for the sake of the department." Spencer cocked his head to the side, looking adorably confused. Lassiter had to force himself not to reach out and ruffle Spencer's hair.

"I'm head detective at the Santa Barbra Police Department. You pretend to be a psychic and _help _on cases that are… a bit difficult."

"I… pretend? Why would I pretend to be a psychic?" This new Spencer was really starting to weird Lassiter out. He was almost childlike, but not immature like he normally was. But with the scared confusion of a child who lost his mother. Of course, not knowing who you are and having no memories could do that to people.

"You were a suspect on a case and it was the only way you saw to get out of being arrested. We know now that you weren't the guilty party, but if you confess to lying you would go to prison." The dark haired man wasn't sure why he was explaining this to Spencer, but he couldn't lie to those beautiful, confused eyes.

"If you know I was lying, why haven't I been arrested?" The calm voice almost looked unnatural coming from Spencer, and Lassiter didn't like it. He'd only just accepted his feelings for the loud obnoxious Spencer, he didn't want to deal with a new one. And now he'd opened himself up for the opportunity for Spencer to question him.

"I'm going to call Guster and your father. They should be down here soon." He said quickly and escaped the room. He leaned against the wall when he was outside the door and sighed. It wouldn't do to have Spencer knowing that he didn't want him arrested, he could use that information against him when he got his memory back. The detective didn't even consider the possibility that Spencer _wouldn't_ get his memory back. He pulled out his phone and looked up Guster's number first. It rang twice before the pharmaceutical rep picked up.

"Hello, Detective Lassiter. You wouldn't happen to know where Shawn is, do you? I've been calling him for hours and he hasn't picked up. I know he was working a case-"

"Guster! I am calling about Spencer. I need you to come to the hospital, room 233. He's gotten into trouble and I have to clean it up." He hung up then. Lassiter didn't need to deal with a hysterical best friend. Now he had to call Henry.

"Lassiter? What are you calling for?"

"You son has seen fit to ruin my day. Please come to St. Thomas, room 233." He hung up again, he didn't really want to deal with an overprotective father.

Lassiter guessed that he had about 10 minutes before his day went to hell.

**R&R**


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